December 15, 2007

I got the call…er text this morning. I’ve been officially called off of the reserves list to enter the battle zone of our parent’s house. My sister, who I recently helped move into a new apartment was calling to inform me she wouldn’t be staying at our parent’s house anymore. That means that I get the honor of making sure it doesn’t burn down, sorting mail, trash management, and all the other tasks you usually don’t want to do.

Since it’s snowing now, the temperature has bottomed out at a new low point (not counting the great ice storm early this year). Naturally with cold weather comes high heating bills. Frugal as they are, my housemates pride themselves on their tolerance of low temperatures. I of course don’t care, so one of our many space heaters has been following me around the house for the last couple of weeks. Which reminds me of another boon of staying at my parent’s, free utilities. Great huh.

Wanting to start off my watch of the parent’s palace, I spent a little while clearing more of the giant piles occupying my Dad’s separate garage. The piles belong mostly to me and my sister, having traveled from my old house and my sister’s old apartment. Since clearing old junk is as bad as it gets, I grabbed four giant trash bags and filled them within 20 minutes. They only added to the pile of black trash bags. If anyone knows of a quick legal way to dispose of trash let me know (my parent’s remote location keeps them off the city trash route). I can’t burn it because of the plastic junk and non-flammable stuff that was dumped.

Taking a quick poll of some of the recent visitors to my blog if found a few interesting facts:

The vast majority of my traffic comes from some dedicated locals. A good chunk of the remainder comes from all over the United States including: